Apr 6, 2019
"I HATE THAT HARRY. He calls me cousin, but he's just waiting for me to die so he can take the Eyrie. He thinks I don't know, but I do."
— THE WINDS OF WINTER.
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"I HATE THAT HARRY. He calls me cousin, but he's just waiting for me to die so he can take the Eyrie. He thinks I don't know, but I do."
— THE WINDS OF WINTER.
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Robin had been TOO YOUNG to understand the implications of what his mother had done. A little friend for you to play with, she told him when she presented their Lannister guest to the young Lord. It seemed like a good enough trade; a friend for losing the chance to watch the halfling fly. The veil his mother placed in front of the boy hid her verbal cruelty against Joanna and the rest of his people.
But with his mother's attention solely on the man she hoped to wed, Robin was beginning to feel neglected. His thin frame lingered up and down the hallway until he gathered enough nerve to knock on her door. "Lady Joanna," it was unfortunate that he had never learned to mask his ton of irritation. "I'm bored," he huffed. Usually his mother would keep him busy but as she was entertaining Baelish, Robin was left to his own devices. Despite being the Lord of the Vale, he found himself with little to do. Or rather, little he was allowed to do.
reads to them
The stories always sounded better whenever SHE read them. Whenever Gretchel read she always sounded like she needed to use the chamber pot.
“Can I hear another?”